


Trials

by sanguisuga



Category: BBC Sherlock, Kingsman (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, First Meetings, Friendship, Kingsman Training, M/M, Minor peril
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-19 02:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15499944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: Mycroft Holmes steps out of his comfort zone in an attempt to take control of his destiny. He finds someone that just may threaten to derail his life altogether...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lmirandas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmirandas/gifts).



> For the lovely Liz, who bid on me in the recent Rupert Graves B-day Auction - she wanted young Hartcroft, and so here they are!
> 
> Thank you so much for your unending support and patience, my dear. I hope my offering pleases!
> 
> (Please note that they would be in their early 20s here - a good 30 years before the current roster of Kingsman. So any references to 'Merlin' and/or 'Arthur' would just be the codenames for the respective positions. No bald Scotsman in this tale... Sorry!)

Mycroft kept his head down as he unpacked the contents of his case, stowing his pants and vests in one of the drawers in the built-in wardrobe attached to his bunk. He had chosen the one closest to the door, having some idea that being able to make a quick exit might be to his benefit. Mycroft continued to arrange his meagre space to his liking as he idly eavesdropped on the conversation being held at the opposite end of the room, closest to the open-ended bathroom. The chatter mostly consisted of insincere sycophancy as family names were dropped in not so subtle attempts at one-upping each other.

“What a load of wankers, eh?”

Mycroft turned to the boy who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, tilting his head as he watched him upend his duffel and dump it all over the bed next to his. The boy grinned crookedly and stuck out his hand. “Harry Hart.”

“Mycroft.” He shook the new arrival’s hand a little warily, his innate secrecy locking his surname behind a politely chilly smile. He blinked rapidly as Harry shoved his belongings into his drawers willy-nilly. He snorted quite against his will as Harry picked up the body bag that had been neatly folded at the foot of the bed and treated it with the same disrespect, cramming it in with the rest of his stuff. Mycroft tilted his chin at it. “You missed the ominous spiel.”

“Most dangerous job interview in the world, blah blah?”

Despite himself, Mycroft felt his smile warm a bit. “Quite.”  

“They caught me n’ my sponsor out in the hall. ‘Fraid running late runs in the family.” Harry’s brown eyes twinkled briefly. “Maybe you’ll help keep me straight?”

“I’ll not make any promises.”

“Ah, just give me a swift kick in the arse. I’ll jump right to.” Harry glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the recruits, a bit of uncertainty colouring his gaze. “What d’ya reckon?”

“Alas, I fear we will have very little true competition. Like many children of inherited wealth, very few of them have ever truly earned their accolades. They are all spoiled and ultimately, too lazy to prove themselves to be anything but.” Mycroft bit his lip as Harry smirked at him. “They are, as you say, a bunch of wankers.”

Harry’s eyes turned shrewd. “And what about you, then? Aren’t you also a ‘child of inherited wealth’? Who’s sponsoring your application?”

Mycroft sighed through his nose. “Yes, I suppose you could say that I’m among the upper echelon, except my parents hardly deigned to pay any attention to me or my brother. I’ve earned every single one of my accolades, thank you very much.” Mycroft subsided as he laid down on his chosen bed, resolutely staring up at the ceiling. “My uncle Rudy agreed to sponsor me when I heard about this position opening up, although it took a bit of convincing. He believes my strengths lie - elsewhere.”

“Rudolph... Holmes?” Mycroft hummed noncommittally, anticipating that he was soon to be abandoned in favour of less - intimidating - companions. “Blimey.” Instead he heard the creak of Harry’s bed springs as he laid down on his side, facing him. “That’s one hell of a legacy. I’m sorry.”

Mycroft blinked rapidly and looked over at Harry in surprise. “Whatever are you apologising for?”

Harry shrugged awkwardly, his eyes vaguely sad. “Can’t be easy trying to live up to it, that’s all.”

“Well, what about you? Your family name is just as prestigious as mine.”

Harry blew a raspberry, startling Mycroft into a genuine giggle. “Ah, don’t you try to pull that shite on me. There’s no way you haven’t heard about the ‘Hart scandal’. I’d be happy enough to blow ‘em all off and go live my own life, but, well." He huffed out a sharp breath. "Mother doesn’t deserve it, after all my jackass father has put her through. And _he’s_ probably counting on them putting that body bag of theirs to its proper purpose. So what the hell, right? Last stand and all.” Harry winked as Mycroft frowned, studying his companion through a new lens. Harry clearly saw was he was up to and coughed faintly. “So, Myc - if you could just go do your own thing, live your own life, what would it be?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “First of all, _Harold_ , my name is Mycroft. Don’t make me correct you again.” He huffed as he got an insolent grin in return for his warning. “And secondly, I - don’t know.” He smiled sadly as Harry frowned at him, rather surprised to find himself admitting it. “I don’t know what I would do if my life were not already planned out for me.” Mycroft spread his arms, indicating the barracks. “This is as close to rebellion as I will ever get, I’m afraid.”

Harry snorted. “Hell of a rebellion, mate.” He paused as he looked Mycroft up and down. “Professor. Writer. Something with words. That’s what you’d do.”

Mycroft took in a deep breath and inclined his head. “Perhaps. I do find that to be a pleasing notion.”  

Mycroft felt something in his chest knock loose at the genuinely brilliant if crooked smile that was turned on him, but before he could respond, the overhead lights flickered and a disembodied voice intoned, “Twenty minutes to lights out.”

They looked at each other, their eyebrows raising as one before they rolled out of their respective bunks and started undressing for bed. Mycroft kept himself turned to the wall, his face heating as he hastily pulled on his pyjamas. They were forced to share a sink when it came time to clean their teeth, and the other recruits swiftly devolved into snide giggles and mocking sideways glances. 

“Looking cosy there, Holmes. Best watch yourself - good old Harry’s just as perverted as his dad, don’t you know.” The self-appointed leader of the newly-formed gang sneered maliciously as Harry stiffened, his jaw flexing as he bit down on his toothbrush. “Make sure to keep hold of the soap in the shower, or you may find that juicy arse of yours to be too tempting a target.”

Harry spat out his toothbrush, turning with a snarl on his lips. He was stopped with a swift jerk on his pyjama top, turning to look at Mycroft in surprise. His grey eyes were narrowed, icy with contempt and derision. “Interesting that you felt compelled to describe my backside as ‘juicy’, Matthews. Perhaps _you_ are the one we should all be wary of?”

Matthews’ cheeks coloured as everybody laughed, a couple of the quieter-seeming lads already turning back to their beds. He seemed on the verge of hissing out a rebuttal, but the lights flickered again in a five-minute warning, so he just sulked his way back to his bunk.

Mycroft resolutely turned back to the sink, his shoulders brushing against Harry’s as they finished their ablutions. He spoke in an undertone as Harry huffed under his breath. “You must watch your temper, Harold. As satisfying as beating the stuffing out of that insufferable bastard would be, he’s not worth potentially losing your prospects here.” He tilted his chin at the mirror as Harry shrugged petulantly. “We’re being watched.”

Harry squinted at his reflection, rolling his eyes as he followed Mycroft back to their respective beds. “How do you know?”

Mycroft’s smile was brittle, his eyes sharp. “I’m very familiar with the sensation. As soon as I stepped into this room, I could feel it. We’re being evaluated on everything that we do. It’s not just when we’re being tested on our knowledge and skills. _This_ is the interview.” He leant in a bit closer as the lights winked out around them. “Never let your guard down.”

“Not even to you?”

Mycroft could practically hear the smile in Harry’s voice, and he allowed himself a grin, knowing that it couldn’t be seen. “ _Especially_ not to me, you silly boy.”    


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night at Kingsman HQ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope those of you who are familiar with Kingsman will forgive me for cribbing from the movie in regard to some of the trials our boys will have to endure. I'm just not clever enough to come up with anything reasonably harrowing and yet escapable. 
> 
> Please do comment - the muse needs them to thrive!
> 
> Kisses to all my lovelies, but especially to Liz...

Mycroft wasn’t even sure what woke him - perhaps the eerie silence, or something in his subconscious screaming in his head. Either way, he sat bolt upright in his narrow bed, blinking rapidly at the lake that had seemingly sprung up out of nowhere. As he watched, almost mesmerised by the reflections on the surface of the water, it rose another couple of inches. 

His heart began to pound in his head as he spun on the mattress and kicked out, jostling Harry’s bed at the same moment that he let out a piercing whistle. There were angry if muzzy cries before the other recruits seemed to recognise the danger, and then a volley of cursing as they all sprung to. 

Harry was standing on his bed, his eyes roaming over the room, checking corners, looking for some way out. Mycroft waded to the door through the waist-deep water, but he knew it was hopeless even before tugging on the handle. He ran his fingers over the cracks and cursed under his breath - it was solid steel, and very securely bolted. By the time he got back to his bunk, the water had risen up to his chest and was showing no signs of slowing down. Most of the rest of the recruits were shouting something ridiculous about ‘loo snorkels’ and diving off in the direction of the showers. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “All for one, eh?” 

Mycroft snorted despite the dire situation they seemed to be in, standing on his tiptoes to keep his face above the water. “And every man for himself, it seems.” Catching sight of the large mirror above the sinks, he suddenly recalled that he had something that would prove very useful. Holding up one finger for Harry to stay, he dove under the water and scrambled at his drawer, fishing around for their salvation and attempting to keep everything else contained at the same time. 

Turning around, he noticed that the boy in the bed directly opposite his seemed to be having difficulty keeping himself afloat, and a subtle sense of panic finally started to filter in through his brain. He swam up to Harry and thrust the small gadget in his hand, demonstrating its usage. “In the corner of the mirror. Hurry.”

“Edmundson...”

“I’ll get him. Go!”

Mycroft watched as Harry kicked off in the direction of the one-way mirror, taking in a deep breath and swimming across to the flailing Edmundson. He reached out to try and untangle the bedding that had somehow gotten wrapped around his legs, drawing back slightly as the boy kicked out in his distress. Mycroft nearly huffed out some of his precious air, but he instead gave him a quick pinch to the thigh to admonish him. He worked quickly, simply yanking Edmundson’s pyjama bottoms off in order to free him.

When he surfaced again, there were barely two inches of free space between the water and the ceiling, and he locked eyes with Edmundson as best he could. “Blow it out, then breathe deep.”

The boy blinked rapidly and obeyed, his cheeks puffed out almost comically as they were both overwhelmed. Mycroft started to tow him in the direction of the mirror, where Harry was busily trying to punch a hole in the glass. The other recruits watched them in bewilderment, all looking rather ridiculous with flexible piping sticking out of their mouths and leading into the toilets. 

Mycroft pushed Edmundson to the nearest loo, shaking his head as there was a brief scuffle with the current occupant, who apparently did not wish to share his supply of air. He snatched the device from Harry, his heartbeat thudding in his ears as his lungs started to scream with the pressure. Putting all of his weight on the corner of the mirror in the divot that Harry had already created, he applied additional pressure with his elbow and pushed the little button. 

The glass cracked as the steel tip dug in, and with Harry also leaning into it, the mirror finally shattered. The wild rush of water into the small room beyond nearly carried them both over, but they wedged themselves in between the sinks and braced up against the half-wall, holding tight to each other. Mycroft shut his eyes tight and simply held on, his pent-up breath wheezing out as another body slammed into him from behind. When the rush had receded, he lifted his head and was not at all surprised to find Edmundson clinging to him, his chest heaving.

“Holmes...”

Mycroft twisted himself around and gave the boy a few swift smacks on the back. “Slow yourself down or you’ll hyperventilate.”

Harry raked the curtain of his soaked hair back from his eyes, glaring balefully at the rest of the recruits, who had all been swept into the room with Merlin. The wizened little man bent down to pick up the tool that had been used to break the mirror, casting a dour eye on Mycroft.

“Convenient that you happened to have this on your person.”

Mycroft barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. “Car rescue tool. I made a point to keep it on me once my brother stated his intention to learn how to drive at age thirteen.” He pursed his lips to keep from grinning as Harry giggled from behind his hand. “We have a sizeable lake on the estate. Thank God that this is only the  _ second _ time I’ve had to use it.” 

“Noted.” Merlin started to pocket it, looking up as Mycroft cleared his throat. 

He stretched his arm out, holding out his hand. “If you don’t mind, I’d like it back. It seems to have become a lucky charm of sorts.” 

They stared each other down for a bit, the rest of the assembled company squirming uncomfortably. With a little cough, Merlin relinquished the tool and snapped his attention to the huddled mass of soaked recruits.

“Shameful,” he barked out. “Clever of you to find yourselves some air, but what would you have done if those two hadn’t taken action? Sat there all night sucking on metal pipes. Brilliant. One of our objectives is to observe how you all work within a team, and as far as I’m concerned, the only two who understand that seem to be Holmes and Hart, here.” He gestured to Edmundson, who crowded closer to Mycroft as he started to shiver hard. “Lucky for this one that Holmes was even paying attention. None of you even looked back, did you?” Everyone dropped their eyes shamefully, except for Matthews, who kept his glare fixed on their rescuers. 

Merlin stepped over to a small cupboard, flinging it open. He swept his arms grandly over the waterlogged company and gestured to the mops inside. “You all pick a mop and get back in there. Clean up.” His lips thinned as he looked at the three boys still standing in knee-deep water. “Edmundson, to the infirmary. You two passed.” He pressed a button on the wall, and they all turned as the solid steel door clanged open behind them. “There’s an identical dormitory just across the corridor. Clean yourselves up and get back to sleep. More to come in the morning.”

Mycroft kept hold of Edmundson’s arm as they all sloshed through the water, noting that the level was descending as they walked. There were grates underneath each bed, presumably the method by which the flood had been introduced. None of them seemed to breathe easier until they had passed through the door, and then they were all shivering so hard they could barely stand upright. 

Edmundson peeled himself away from Mycroft’s side and started to trudge down the corridor, his boxers dripping water with every step. Harry called out after him. “Do you even know where to go? Want us to come with?”

Edmundson lifted a hand and waved him off without even turning around. “I’ll manage.”

Harry and Mycroft frowned at each other, but also did not hesitate to leave him to his fate, scuttling across the hall and straight to the showers. They ran the water nice and hot in individual bays, leaving one empty between them. Mycroft wished fervently for a privacy curtain, but of course wishing only went so far. Which was to say - not at all. He turned away as he peeled his wet pyjamas off, simply leaving them in a pile on the tiled floor. Mycroft felt his cheeks burn as Harry let out a heady groan of bliss as the hot water cascaded over his head, silently admonishing his cock for perking up at the sound. 

He resolutely did not allow himself to think of anything licentious as he soaped up, instead thinking of the frightening ease with which they had all nearly been drowned. He also thought about how odd it was that most of the beds in this new dormitory had fresh pyjamas folded on the pillow - all of them except the bed directly opposite his. 

Harry politely averted his eyes as he handed Mycroft a towel, casually striding back to his bunk with his own towel slung low over his hips. Mycroft busily dried himself off as he took the opportunity to eye Harry’s backside. Bit stringy, perhaps, but his shoulders were nice and broad, and his waist pleasantly tapered. There was the potential for power there, as long as he bulked up those ridiculously skinny legs of his. Mycroft poked idly at the small roll of chub that he never seemed able to work off, sighing inwardly. 

Harry was already tucked up into bed by the time that Mycroft got himself clothed, his blankets pulled up to his chin as he shivered erratically. He briefly entertained the idea of clambering into Harry’s bed to warm the both of them up, but did not allow that thought to linger. 

Harry glanced over at him, and Mycroft swallowed hard as he saw some of the same notion glowing in his eyes. “Helluva thing to pull on us our first night.”

Mycroft snorted. “Most dangerous job interview in the world, blah blah.” 

Harry giggled, stopping abruptly as Mycroft leant in close, holding his finger to his lips as he whispered in his ear. “Games, Harold. That’s all they are. I don’t believe that they will truly put us in harm’s way. Remember that.” He glanced over his shoulder, to the bed he knew would be unoccupied in the morning. “Edmundson was a plant - he was meant to look as though he drowned to reinforce the seriousness of the situation.”

Harry’s eyes were wide in the dim light. “How do you know?”

Mycroft shrugged and climbed into his own bed, pulling up the blankets and turning on his side, facing Harry. He tucked the little tool he had been carrying under his pillow, patting it into place. “I observe, I deduce, and I reach conclusions, which are usually proven true.”

Harry hummed as he closed his eyes, his lips turning up slightly. “Mycroft Holmes, I do believe you just became my very best friend.”

Mycroft fell asleep with his chest feeling oddly full. 

**Author's Note:**

> Not brit-picked. Characters not mine, but the situation definitely is!
> 
> If you'd like to get notifications from tumblr, I'm at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com'. Come follow me, and you'll get pretty boys and soft kitties on your dash!


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